


Day/Night

by bookybookworm



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, discontinued i just wanted to post everything in the same place, i found this in my documents from about 10 months ago, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 19:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookybookworm/pseuds/bookybookworm
Summary: "Night is eternal. Yuuri does not remember when it was made, nor does he particularly care. All he knows is that he was born, in the darkest part of the universe, to rule it. To create the stars that hang within his realm, softly illuminating. The stars are his family, and he loves each unconditionally."based off the day and night au by beanpots: http://beanpots.tumblr.com/tagged/fantasy-au





	Day/Night

**Author's Note:**

> this is really fucking cringey and stupid and i havent actually read it since january ok

Night is eternal. Yuuri does not remember when it was made, nor does he particularly care. All he knows is that he was born, in the darkest part of the universe, to rule it. To create the stars that hang within his realm, softly illuminating. The stars are his family, and he loves each unconditionally.

Until.

Day is new. Yuuri very much remembers the exact time, the exact place, the exact feeling that shot through him when a light, brighter than any, filled the sky. Day was created in the light of the biggest star. The sun. Yuuri did not know what had possessed him to fashion a star so large, though in his heart of hearts he knew that it had to be.

The sun is a charismatic thing, pulling in everything susceptible to its charm: planets, asteroids, comets. And the king of Day takes them all under his wing, granting life – life! – with his fearsome energy, his dazzling radiance.

Yuuri has never met the king of Day. He has never met his most powerful creation, the sun. Because… Because… There is no reason. The truth is, Yuuri is scared.

Yuuri shrinks away from Day, from its blinding light, from its reach extending far beyond any of the smaller stars. It is only when Day withdraws, taking the sun with it, that Yuuri allows Night to slide back, enveloping worlds with darkness. But the king of Day always comes back, each instance seemingly brighter than the last. And thus Dawn and Dusk are born, in the area where their realms merge, when Day meets Night.

The city of Dawn resides in the kingdom of Day, its Viceroy clawing at the Night when it is Day’s turn (since when did they start to share rule?) to ignite the sky, painting the atmosphere red, then pink. Then the king of Day lifts up the sun, the sky flaring with a cerulean blue. Yuuri notices the humans’ activity increase at this time, while it wanes in the darkness. They seem to welcome Day, contrasting Yuuri’s own behaviour. (Perhaps he should follow their example, Yuuri thinks idly, before casting that idea away.) The king of Day seemed too intrusive, too different to himself.) Yuuri does not pay attention to this (he does) as he has other duties to do, such as caring for his stars, and guiding weary travellers on their way with his constellations. The sun curves around the sky, until it is Dusk’s turn to push away the Day. The city of Dusk’s Viceroy, affectionately dubbed Phichit, resides in the kingdom of Night when he is not painting the blue sky with a myriad of colours, in preparation of Yuuri’s arrival. Yuuri appreciates the splendid colours cast across the sky, darkening gradually until it is his turn to sweep in. On some days, he lifts the moon up, which provides soft light to the sleeping humans. Its constantly changing shape fascinates Yuuri somewhat, and occasionally he forgets to pull it back down from the sky, where it remains for nearly half a turn of the earth before Yuuri remembers. Phichit always laughs at him when this happens.

The humans create a word for the routine swapping of the Day and Night kingdoms. Time. It’s a measurement, a way of determining how long they should be working, how long they should be sleeping. Yuuri finds them endearing, continually creating neologisms for mundane things.

But that’s the thing. It’s routine now. Yuuri doesn’t know how long it has been since he created the sun, since Day was inadvertently born. He never meets the king of Day, and doesn’t even want to. (He does.)

Yuuri is sitting on his throne, watching a human put blades on her feet and successfully manage to slide across a body of frozen water. She dances gracefully and fluidly. It seems she has not a care in the world. He is startled from his observance of the humans by the Viceroy of Dusk.

“Phichit,” he says, tucking his viewing crystal into his robes. “I wasn’t expecting you. Come in.”

Phichit grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Dusk is still a long way yet, I wanted to catch up!” He gazes around the room, drinking everything in. It is not a room as such: there are no defined walls, nor a ceiling, but it is raised slightly, with a large collection of stars hovering near the edges. Phichit smiles at them, and they wave back, flickering.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Don’t encourage them. They keep on trying to get me to make new stars, as if there aren’t so many already! I just made one recently.”

Phichit’s boots click against the polished floor as he walks closer. “In human terms, it was three hundred years ago,” he reminds him.

Yuuri runs a hand through his black hair. “I’ve been preoccupied.”

Phichit snorts. “With what? The only other thing you do is cast the moon into the sky.”

“Not true,” Yuuri mumbles, “I also polish the moon. But that’s not it.”

Phichit cocks his head inquisitively.

Yuuri reverently draws a flower out of his robes, and Phichit reels back in shock. Yuuri can tell why. The colour, so bright, so radiant, seems terribly out of place in the kingdom of Night. And of course, it’s a flower! Such living things cannot survive in Night. Day’s energy, providing life, does not reach here.

“Where did you get it?” Phichit whispers.

Yuuri also lowers his voice, not wanting to speak loudly in the flower’s presence. Its petals were already browning. “It’s always appearing on my throne,” he says. “Since five hundred human years ago. After Dusk, it just sits there. But it’s never the same one. The colours… they vary. Last Dusk it was yellow. Once, it was pink.”

Phichit laughs disbelievingly. “Do they not die?”

Yuuri nods sadly. “I kept the first one,” he says, weariness setting into his voice. “But it wilted, and I was so sad… I cannot bear to see death… So I return them at Dawn. I ask my royal guard, Otabek, to give them to the Viceroy, and the Viceroy seems to understand.”

“Who gives them to you?”

Yuuri shrugs. “It’s probably an accident.”

Phichit laughs. “I sincerely doubt it, Yuuri,” he says between giggles. Yuuri frowns. “You’ve got a secret admirer!”

Yuuri tries to look affronted, but he feels too embarrassed (and pleased). “Stop it, Phichit! Isn’t it time for Dusk?”

Phichit leaves, however not before extracting a promise from Yuuri to ask the Viceroy of Dawn where the flowers come from.

 

+

 

Victor remembers everything about his birth. Day was created from the light of a large star, the sun, and he was made to rule it. He knew – somehow – that the king of Night created these stars, but the sun is so much brighter, so much bigger.

Victor did not know what to do with himself in the time before Dawn appeared. He just moved his kingdom aimlessly through the universe, drawing in planets and asteroids, watching as the huge kingdom of Night shrunk away from him. Why would he do that? Was he scared? But he paid it no mind. So when Dawn appeared and the Viceroy (begrudgingly) helped him set a routine of Night and Day in succession, Victor was overjoyed. This was his purpose: to watch the progress of life, and sometimes paint his clouds into the sky with water and random material he found. He throws the sun into the coloured sky, every time, turning everything blue and shining brightly. Sometimes he grows too eager with his clouds, and they end up hiding the sun from the worlds’ view. They grow heavy and grey, and Victor cannot stand to see the humans’ sad faces, so he washes them away, and the sky ends up blue and shining. The humans smile again. When Dusk comes, he drives his kingdom away, and pulls the sun from the sky. He polishes the sun regularly, sitting on his throne and staring at the multitude of flowers growing.

Flowers.

Victor feels connected with the king of Night. He had been doing this job for an infinitely larger amount of time than Victor, and his kingdom covered a vast expanse. Victor admires him. Was the king of Night thinking about the routine they had made, how their kingdoms barely touched? Did he want to meet Victor too?

Victor finds himself begging the Viceroy of Dawn, Yuri, to tell him about the king of Night. Surely he has seen him when he paints his colours?

“Why do you want to know so much about him?” Yuri mutters. He is pacing back and forth, his soft shoes not making a sound no matter how hard he stomped.

Victor holds a red rose in his hand, its petals glistening with dew. “He’s so mysterious, Yuri. So elusive. We have a system, he and I. _A connection._ I want to meet him.”

Yuri purses his lips. “A connection? How do you know he even wants you around?”

“He created me, no?” But the seed of doubt has already taken root in his mind.

“No, he created the sun. You… you were just a consequence of that.”

Victor looks down. He wasn’t planned? He really does have no purpose in life? What if… what if the king didn’t want to create a routine? Does he just want eternal darkness? He stands up. If he is not wanted, he will make the king of Night want him.

“Yuri,” he announces, “do me a favour.”

“No,” the young looking man says sourly.

“Please.” Victor says this with so much heart, such passion, that Yuri can’t refuse. Or maybe it’s the fact that Yuri is annoyed by his pestering.

Five hundred human years later, the number of the earth’s revolutions around the sun, Victor is clutching a bouquet of exactly 182593 roses of different colours.

“This has gone on for far too long, Victor,” Yuri yells, throwing yet another rose at Victor’s feet. “I doubt he even knows who they’re from!”

Victor nods. “I have to tell him.”

“Finally!” Yuri stalks away. “Leave me out of it.”

“Wait, Yuratchka,” Victor wheedles. “One more favour.”

 

+

 

When Dawn approaches, Yuuri lingers nervously at the edge of his kingdom. He has never been this close to Day before, and he has to shield his eyes. Since when was it so… bright? Nothing Yuuri has created has grown to give out so much light. His royal guard waits patiently beside him. Yuuri felt ashamed as he asked Otabek to accompany him, but he was frightened of the unknown. Thanfully Otabek is understanding.

The Viceroy of Dawn sneers at Yuuri, his long blonde hair partially covering his green eyes filled with frustration. Yuuri smiles tentatively. “Hello, Viceroy,” he says.

The Viceroy narrows his eyes. “Call me Yuri,” he says. “Your majesty,” he adds, and Yuuri finds it hard to find anything other than sarcasm in his tone.

“Then you can call me Yuuri,” he says, and laughs lightly. “How odd. Who named you?”

Yuri scoffs. “I didn’t come here for small talk.” Yuuri is not taken aback, because there is no bite to his words. Yuri reaches behind his back, and brings out a large bouquet of flowers, each seemingly identical to the ones Yuuri had received on his throne.

Yuuri gapes. “W-what?” he stutters, and automatically reaches out to take them when Yuri offers them.

“From the king,” Yuri says shortly, then reaches into the sky and begins to paint his colours.

Yuuri gasps. “T-they were from the king of Day?” He softly caresses a petal.

Yuri snorts as he swipes his hand over a large part of the sky, covering it in purple. “What other kings do you know?”

Yuuri all but runs to Otabek and passes him the bouquet. He sends a confused glance to Yuuri but he is too busy searching for a writing implement and a scrap of paper. Finally he completes the note, and sticks it into flowers where it is hidden by a petal.

He waits until Yuri has finished painting the sky, just before the kingdom of Day sweeps in. “Please,” he begs, not caring that this is completely unbecoming for a king, “give this to your king.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow but takes them anyway. “Giving it back?” He snickers. “Of course.” He nods once at Otabek and turns away.

Yuuri tries to explain, that Yuri is misunderstanding, that he physically cannot keep them; but he is already heading back towards the fast approaching Day. Yuuri pulls his robe around him to shield himself from the all-encompassing light, and hurries back with Otabek, after sending a wistful look behind him.

Phichit laughs gleefully when Yuuri tells him what happened. “You know what this means, Yuuri,” he says, smirking.

Yuuri furrows his brows. “No?”

“The mighty king of Day likes you!” Phichit crows happily. Yuuri bite his lips. Is that a good thing?

 

+

 

Victor stares speechlessly at the bouquet in Yuri’s hands. “What?” he whispers.

“He gave it back. He seemed really shocked, then as soon as I was finished he just thrust them at me.”

Victor slides a palm over his face. So his attempts have gone unnoticed. A tear slides down his cheek.

“Are you seriously crying?” Yuri asks. “You don’t even know-” He stops abruptly. “A note?” he mutters, pulling a piece of paper out of the petals.

“A note?” Victor jumps up and runs towards Yuri. “Quick, what does it say?” He ignores the irritated expression Yuri makes and leans over his shoulder.

“The flowers are lovely,” Yuri reads, “and it is with a heavy heart that I return them to you. Your flowers do not thrive in my land and I cannot bear to see them wilt. I hope this does not offend you in any way. I desperately wish to keep them by my side forever.” Yuri clears his throat. “That’s the end of the note.”

Victor mechanically walks to his throne and sits down heavily. A huge smile breaks across his face, as radiant as the sun, and he drops his head into his hands, laughing disbelievingly. “I…” he trails off. “I want to see him.”

Yuri gapes. “You what?”

“I want to meet him. I want to meet the king of Night.”

**Author's Note:**

> please dont ask me to update


End file.
